


Cheap Thrills

by verbaepulchellae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme, Smut, Tattoo Kink, a little bit of pain kink, canon ish, handjobs, tattooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaepulchellae/pseuds/verbaepulchellae
Summary: "If you would kindly hold still," Clarke snaps. "I might be able to do this.""Fucking stings," Bellamy snaps right back, antsy under Clarke's attention."That's what happens when you get a tattoo," Clarke says, exasperated and shoves at Bellamy's chest so that he flops back on the bed dramatically, his hands coming to her hips to hold on. "It hurts a little."





	Cheap Thrills

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 100 kink meme for the prompt "bellarke + tattoo kink".

"If you would _kindly_ hold still," Clarke snaps. "I might be able to do this."

"Fucking stings," Bellamy snaps right back, antsy under Clarke's attention.

"That's what happens when you get a tattoo," Clarke says, exasperated and shoves at Bellamy's chest so that he flops back on the bed dramatically, his hands coming to her hips to hold on. "It hurts a little." 

Clarke leans forward, the little well of ink balanced next to her on a book, the needle held delicately between her fingers. She's shirtless, just in her undershirt and tight little shorts that stretch over her ass and upper thighs and do things to Bellamy. Their room is a little chilly, and Clarke’s nipples are just peaking up, still a hint of softness under the fabric of her shirt. She frowns down at the work she's started on his bicep, a curvature of lines and swirls that emphasize the muscles in his arm. A mark she designed just for him that denotes him down as Skaikru, as one of hers. 

It's about the hottest thing Bellamy's ever seen, Clarke's little furrow of her brow, her concentration trained on him, on marking him. Shit. 

"Like you're an expert," Bellamy gripes through his distraction and can't help but push his hips up against her ass so that he can get a little pressure on his cock. He sees the smirk that Clarke quickly fights back down. 

"Bellamy," she warns, leaning forward to brace a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. The sharp prick of the needle, quick and a little brutal goes from an annoying sensation to something hotter, darker. He rolls his hips up again as Clarke dips the needle into the inkpot. The warning glance from Clarke just adds to it.

"What, you get one, measly little tattoo and suddenly you know it all, is that it, Clarke?" Bellamy goads her, reaching up to touch the dark configuration on her left upper arm. When his is done, they'll be a matched set, not bearing the exact twin mark, but tattoos that complimented each other. That marked them out as separate but the same. 

He traces the lines of her tattoo up to her collarbone and then abandons them to run his fingers lightly over the dip of the muscle just above it. It makes Clarke shiver and she's smiling as she leans back down over him, hand poised with the needle, eyes intent. Her loose hair tickles over his chest, across his nipple, and jesus, Bellamy can't stand this. 

"Come on," he whines. 

"You are the most impatient person I know," Clarke says, her voice fond, a juxtaposition to the two quick darts she makes, embedding the ink in his skin. "I'm not going to let you distract me."

"You could," Bellamy offers. "Let me give you a break, fuck you nice and slow like you like."

Clarke's eyes flutter and Bellamy thinks he might have won, but Clarke just pushes the needle under his skin again. 

"After," she says, clearing her throat. "We can do that after."

Bellamy huffs, definitely doesn't whine, because despite what Clarke says, he doesn't do that, and squeezes at her hips again while she wipes the needles and redips it. When he lifts his hips again, needing friction on his cock, Clarke pauses.

"You actually getting off on this?" She asks, leaning back to off his cock more pressure from where it strains in his boxers.

"I'm fucking trying too," Bellamy laughs but it might be a groan. "Just come up here so I can eat you out a bit, huh? Let me jerk off while I do that."

"You are ridiculous," Clarke laughs, breaking, and leans down and forward to kiss him. She smiles against his mouth and Bellamy grins, lifts a hand to rub over the dimples of her back. "Of course this does it for you,” she says, breaking away with a shake of her head to try to mask her smile, sitting up again and Bellamy tries very hard not to miss her. 

"You really want to get off?" Clarke asks, rubbing her free hand across his pecs appreciatively and Bellamy groans and rocks up into her ass.

"No, actually, I think I've changed my mind, I'm good,” Bellamy snarks but pulls on her hips suddely so that she as to catch herself a little against his chest as he flexes up against her ass. “ _Yes_ , Clarke.”

Clarke purses her lips against her smile and shakes her head. "How about this, you let me keep working on this, and you can fuck my hand."

"Jesus," Bellamy chokes, "jesus, fuck, yes."

"Yeah?" Clarke murmurs, lifting her weight off his hips so she can work a hand between them and get his cock out of his boxers. "You have to stay still though. You can get off, but you have to stay still."

"Okay, babe, okay. I can do that."

Clarke rearranges herself so that she’s straddling one of his thighs and can still get at his arm, but can keep her right hand steady from him. Her hand is warm and small and soft on his cock and Bellamy sighs, working his hips up into the circle of her fingers. Clarke squeezes at him affectionately, and then lets him go to spit into her palm and returns to grip him tighter.

"How's that feel?" She asks and Bellamy growls, pushes up hard into her palm and gets the satisfying slide of her fist all the way from the head of his dick to the root and then back up. 

"Fucking great," Bellamy manages and settles into the rhythm of lifting his hips in between each needle prick Clarke gives him on his shoulder. It's hot and a little confusing with the prick of pain and the familiar, good, overwhelming slide of Clarke's hand on his cock, but it strikes a deeper pleasure in him, something a little twisted, a little wrong. 

Bellamy doesn't fight it, lets it wash over his head as he works himself closer to coming, watching Clarke's flushed but focused face as she concentrates just as hard at easing ink into his skin.

"Clarke," Bellamy whines after a little while. "God, take off your bra, huh? Let me at least look." 

Clarke shakes her head but she twitches, like she wants to rub down on his thigh. “I don’t trust you,” she laughs. “I know what you’re like around my tits.”

“Can you blame me?” Bellamy groans and can’t help a double thrust into her hand. He reaches down and covers the top of her fist with his palm so he can more easily grind his cock. Fuck, it feels good. He sees Clarke’s eyes flick down, sees her swallow. When he tears his eyes away from her face, away from the way she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, and trails his gaze down her body, he can just see the way she’s soaked through her panties. 

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy groans, thinks about manhandling her back into his lap so he can fuck against the wet fabric, catch her clit; make her moan and drop this game. “How much longer?”

Clarke cocks her head, surveying her progress, the dark black lines somehow darker with the red irritation of his skin. “I’ll stop when you come,” she decides and Bellamy has to laugh, hoarse and pained and fucking turned on, his girl is such a fucking surprise every time. 

“Ok,” he agrees. “But then I get to fuck you.”

“Deal.”

It’s a race to the finish after that. Clarke is just as precise in her pricks, but faster, eyes narrowed in determination and it fucking hurts but it’s hot as hell too. Bellamy closes his hand around her fist to get the tight friction he wants and doesn’t hold back anymore, rocks up hard and fast into their fists and groans at the combined pain/pleasure of Clarke’s hand on him and Clarke marking him.

Somehow, each time Bellamy thinks he’s going to make it, going to finally come, Clarke manages to sink the needle at just the right moment to pull him back, extend their game and Bellamy knows he’s started running his mouth, but jesus, he can’t help himself when he’s so overloaded with sensation.

Somewhere in there, finally, Bellamy feels Clarke shift and the drag of her wet panties against his thigh as she gives in and grinds down does him in. With a groan, Bellamy comes, feels himself spill over their fingers and he squeezes Clarke’s hand, needing something to hang on to. 

Clarke doesn’t prick him through the length of his orgasm, his cum spurting over their hands and sliding down his cock, making Clarke’s grip slicker and tighter and _jesus_. Bellamy goes boneless back against the bed, shivering a little from sensory overload and Clarke’s familiar, comforting weight on him. “Christ,” he groans.

He get’s a pinprick in response and manages to glare up at Clarke. “You said you were done.”

“I needed that last one,” Clarke says, smugly. “I got interrupted.”

“Interrupted,” Bellamy snorts, overly fond of Clarke and her bossiness. “Interrupted. You’re ridiculous. Get down here.”

Clarke grins at him and sets aside the needle and inkpot with exasperating care before she grabs a clean, cool cloth and gently presses it over the fresh work she’s done. It feels good against his inflamed skin, but Bellamy can’t really think past it as Clarke shifts and lays down next to him. Bellamy drags her into a kiss and it’s a little bit hard with biting, but Clarke’s breath catches and she rocks against him.

“Yeah,” Bellamy laughs, squeezing at her arm where her tattoo is. “Your turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! :)


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